The Diary
by filipina2005
Summary: Post-OotP. Major OotP spoilers. HG. Ginny gives Harry an interesting gift for his birthday. Constructive criticism would be appreciated (in other words, please review).
1. Part 1

Chapter 1

"Happy Birthday, Harry."

Harry Potter wheeled around from his chair next to the window. His best friend Ron Weasley's little sister, Ginny, was standing in the doorway, her hands clasped behind her back. Her lightly freckled face looked calm and serene; her smile was demure.

"You do realize that you're missing your own party," she said cheerfully, when he didn't answer. Ginny came into the room, stepping gingerly over the various presents that Harry had left on the floor. He noticed that she was holding something behind her back.

"Sorry," he mumbled, turning away from her and staring at the window half-heartedly. "Just...tired, I guess."

Ginny came over and leaned against the windowsill, facing Harry. She sighed sympathetically. "I understand," she said softly, gently, almost in a maternal tone. "I won't bother you for long. I just wanted..."

"What? Wanted to tell me how much of a stupid, selfish git I am for missing my own party and pushing everybody away?" Harry burst out scathingly, knowing that Ginny was just about to lecture him, just like last year. 

Ginny didn't look fazed by his outburst. She tucked a piece of stray red hair behind her ear nonchalantly. "No," she said earnestly, with such gentleness that Harry felt horribly guilty for blowing up at her. "I just wanted to give you your present."

Harry glanced up at her in surprise and chagrin. "I'm sorry, Ginny...you didn't have to...I've already got loads of presents..."

"Well, I already bought it for you, so shut up, Harry," Ginny rolled her eyes and held out a thin, rectangular thing wrapped beautifully in shiny paper with Snitches and broomsticks printed on it. Harry stared at it in disbelief. "Go on," she urged, "open it. It's not much, don't worry..."

Harry took the gift and ripped off the paper. A thin, leather-bound book fell out and onto his lap. Perplexed, he picked it up and turned it over. It had his initials embossed beautifully in gold lettering. Harry looked back up at Ginny, puzzled.

"It's a diary," she explained, smiling. "Or a journal, whatever you want to call it." Ginny leaned over and opened the book, showing him the blank, lined pages. Her red-gold hair fell over her face as she bent down, and Harry realized how pretty the color was up close.

"They sold them at this shop in Diagon Alley. I even got it personalized for you," Ginny added, beaming.

"Thanks," Harry said uncertainly.

"Well, I think it'll help you sort out your thoughts," Ginny continued brightly. "You can write anything, at any time, whenever you feel like it. It doesn't matter. You can even draw in it...no one's going to ever read it. At least, that's what I do with mine. It really helps me clear up my mind. Probably better than...oh, say, Occulmency?"

Ginny's brown eyes were sparkling with good-humor. Even Harry had to smile weakly. "Thanks," he repeated, this time meaning it with his whole heart. "I like it. Er...I'll be downstairs in a minute, okay?"

"Okay," Ginny said, patting his shoulder easily and bending down to pick up the discarded wrapping paper. "Happy birthday," she said again, smiling shyly before she left the room.

Harry looked back down at the diary in his lap. Thoughtfully, he opened his trunk and fished out his quill and inkwell. Flipping open the book to the first page, Harry paused, his quill loaded with ink. His heart beat fast and his stomach twisted strangely as he began writing.


	2. Part 2

Chapter 2

Harry's fingers moved with their own volition. He hardly even glanced at what he was writing; the words came unbidden, scrawling across the page.  
  


Dear Sirius,  
  
Today's my birthday. I'm sixteen but I don' t feel a day older. Were you there when my mum was having me? I always wanted to ask you that kind of stuff, like when Dad asked you to be my godfather and all that. Well...anyway. It feels really strange with you not around, and writing this doesn't feel any less strange. I hope you're happy where you are, wherever you are, at least happier than you were last summer.   
  
I never got to ask you this, but when's your birthday? I feel really awful for not knowing, and I bet you knew mine, which makes it even worse. You never told me much about your Hogwarts days, either. So far, all I know is that you and Dad were pranksters and that you hated Snape. Well, who doesn't hate Snape, anyway? You never told me if you liked or played Quidditch, or what your favorite class was, or if you had any girlfriends or anything.   
  
Speaking of which, I hope you'll give me some advice some time about girls. I don't and I never will understand them, not even Hermione. Why do they always cry and make fusses about things? And why do they like those places like Madam Puddifoot's? I have too many questions, I don't think I can write them all.   
  
Hope I hear from you soon. I've been feeling pretty lonely lately.  
  
Harry.

Harry stopped moving his hand across the page and looked down at what he wrote. For a moment, as he stared at the messy scrawl down the whole length of the page, his vision was blurred. Harry blinked; a tiny wet spot was spreading on the page and smearing the ink

Furiously, he pulled off his glasses and wiped his eyes, then slammed the diary shut. _It's just a stupid diary,_ Harry thought angrily. _It won't make him come back._

He felt that familiar stinging in the back of his eyes, but he forced it back. _He's _not _coming back._

With that, Harry stood up, tossed the book into his trunk along with the quill and inkwell, and trudged back down the stairs to the Weasleys' kitchen to rejoin his party.  
  


After an evening of dinner outside in the garden and a game of Quidditch (minus the Seeker position), calmness came over the Burrow.  Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Charlie, and Bill all retired for the night, leaving the younger Weasleys, Hermione, and Harry to themselves.

Fred, George, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron were all engaged in a game of Exploding Snap in the living room. Ron was winning, a superior grin on his face as he looked through his cards.

Harry was sitting on the couch, the diary that Ginny had given him opened in front of him. He was staring at it dully; he made no move to write in it, even though he had a pencil in his hand.  His expression changed to one of bewilderment as he brought the book closer to his face.

"Come on, Harry, wanna play?" Ron called over to him.

"No thanks," he mumbled, still staring at the diary, a look of surprise still on his face.

Ginny regarded him curiously. "What's the matter?" she asked. "Something wrong with the diary?"

Harry looked up at her, startled by the question. "N-no...never mind." Yet he made no move to write; he just bent over the diary, studying it. Ginny observed him closely, and she saw him rub at his eye.  
  
_Dear Harry,  
  
Happy Birthday, Prongs Junior. I'm proud of you; sixteen is a great age. At least, it was for me, since I moved out of Grimmauld Place when I turned sixteen. Good God... sixteen already. I feel old...wait a minute, I take that back. Too bad I can't physically give you a gift...if it were up to me I'd get you a flying motorbike, like mine, but Lily would have my head.  
  
Instead, maybe you could piece back together that mirror I gave you. Just something to remember me by. James took it personally when you broke it; that mirror had originally been his. But don't worry; I think a good charm can repair it._  
  
_How's Moony nowadays? I hope he's not as melancholy as he used to be. Poor Remus, he's had it rough. Tell him that Sirius said he needs some excitement in his life. I used to tell him that all the time. I'd tell him to quit being so rational and just go with the flow. He listened to me a couple of times. But if you tell a person to go with the flow, also tell them when to say no. I think James and I have had to tell Remus that more than once. In a word: firewhiskey. He may not look it, but he's obsessed with the stuff. Maybe not as obsessed with it as chocolate, but there you go.  
  
Ah, girls. You're coming into that stage of life when all you can think about is the opposite sex. Yeah, I understand how it is. You think that the girl likes you a lot, but she always complains about how stupid and irresponsible and immature you are. Yet when you ask her if she wants to break up, she just blubbers. Do you have a girlfriend already? Now I really feel old. Just don't do what your father did. He didn't get the girl until he was a seventh year. You don't want to be a late bloomer, if you know what I mean._  
_  
By the way, give good ol' Snivellus my regards, and James's as well, when you go back to Hogwarts this coming term._   
  


_Lily and James send their love. Your mum says to try to comb your hair in the mornings, get really good grades in school, and don't have sex till you're married. Your dad says good luck in Quidditch, and he hopes that you actually play this year. So do I; that Umbridge woman better not be back teaching at school or I'll have to pay her a little visit.  
_  
_Good luck, and don't get so down, Harry. You know I'm always here.  
  
Sirius._

Late into the night, Harry was still in the living room, reading over and over in disbelief his diary. Since the time he put the book in his trunk, two pages had been filled mysteriously.

The ink was still fresh, it seemed, and it was definitely in Sirius's handwriting. But...how? Harry looked at the cover of the book for any sign of how it worked, but it looked just like an ordinary diary. Had Ginny charmed it to make it look like Sirius had written in it just now? But how would she have known all of these details?

Was Sirius really communicating with him?

'There's only one way to be sure,' he thought, and he began writing furiously.  
  
_Dear Sirius,  
  
Is it really you? I didn't think it would work! I just started writing all of a sudden and I realized I was writing a letter to you and you wrote back! I really miss you. I've got lots to ask you too. What happened back there in the Department of Mysteries?  What's with Bellatrix Lestrange? Why did you taunt her? Why did you fall through the veil? What's behind the veil? I didn't see anything. Why did Lupin think you were gone? Where did you go? Are you okay, wherever you are? Will you ever come back? Do you have that mirror? Can I talk to you face-to-face?  
  
Write back soon, Sirius. I have to know the truth.  
  
Harry._  
  
Creak.

Harry slammed the book shut and rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Who's there?" he said in a whisper.

Ginny came into the light, wearing a bathrobe over her pajamas and clutching her own diary. "Hey," she said quietly, scratching her head. "What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep. What about you?"

"Same thing. I'm hungry; do you want a glass of milk or something?"

"Sure," Harry said hastily, tossing his pencil on the table, but still holding the diary. He followed Ginny into the kitchen, where she bustled around looking for glasses and pouring milk.

"I've been rather restless lately," Ginny said, taking a gulp of milk and settling on a kitchen chair. "So I come down here to write and have something to eat. Is the diary helping any?" 

"Yeah," Harry said quickly. "It's really great. Thanks."

Ginny shrugged. Harry took a sip of his milk so that he didn't have to say anything. There was a period of awkward silence.

"I know that gift was a bit...odd," Ginny said suddenly, breaking the silence. "I mean, you and I have never been good friends..."

"What do you mean? I think we've been friends," he said, frowning slightly.

Ginny snorted. "Well, considering the fact that you didn't know I existed for four years and that I had a stupid schoolgirl crush on you for three of those years doesn't exactly constitute as being friends."

Harry's jaw dropped, he couldn't help it. He couldn't believe how frank and somewhat harsh she was being. "Well...er...we've always been nice to each other..."

"But I think giving you that gift was slightly too personal considering our relationship," she interrupted. "If you don't like it, you don't have to keep it."

"No," he said forcefully, a little too quickly. "I said it was great. I like it."

"You don't have to pretend," Ginny said, dismissing what Harry had said. "It was a dumb idea. But," she added, looking earnestly at him, "I am willing to be your friend. I realize that I can be a brat sometimes...telling you off when you really don't need that kind of thing from a stupid girl like me..."

"You're not stupid," Harry said firmly. "And I deserved it."

"Well, if you're willing to be friends with me..."

Harry snorted derisively, interrupting her. "It's a dangerous thing, being friends with me," he said sardonically. "Look at all the trouble Ron and Hermione's gotten into...surprised they became prefects."

"You think I'm afraid of V-Voldemort?" Ginny said forcefully. Harry gawked at her in surprise. She had just done what some grown wizards still could not. She had said Voldemort's name. 

"No..." he managed to say.

"Don't look at me like that, Harry. Yes, I said Voldemort," she said, a bit stronger now. "I'm not afraid of him, or his stupid Death Eaters. I want to be your friend because I want to help." Ginny's brown eyes were filled with earnest.

"Help? Do I look like I need help?" he snapped harshly.

"You want the truth? Yes," Ginny said softly.

"Well, I do _not_ need help," Harry said in a low, tight voice, trying desperately to keep his anger in check. "Especially from pathetic little girls with stupid schoolgirl crushes on me to breathe down my neck because she's not completely over me!"

Ginny's cheeks flushed and her eyes flashed angrily. "You shut up, Harry Potter, I am very much over you," she sneered. "You think you're all brave and noble? You are a coward who doesn't deserve the friends he's got. You think you're the only one who suffers? The only one that deserves pity? Well, you're not getting any from me!" She stood up, grabbed her diary, and stormed out of the room with her head held high.

Harry gritted his teeth. "Girls! I'll never understand them, the whole lot of them!" he burst out furiously. But even he had to admit that she looked rather pretty with her cheeks all flushed in anger.

He pushed that thought from his mind quickly, still fuming over his argument with her. "No better than Cho...they're so touchy...one word and they get upset!" he ranted again, picking up his diary and opening it absentmindedly. Harry began flipping through the pages to find the latest entry, when he realized that none of this was familiar.

First of all, the first few pages were written in purple ink, in a neat and tidy scrawl;. Harry stared at the diary in horror. By accident Ginny had picked up his and had left her own here. He made to shut it, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment and guilt, when he noticed several pencil sketches. He took a closer look; they were all portraits. Even though Ginny hadn't labeled any of the sketches, Harry could tell who was who; she had an amazing skill at drawing portraits.

He turned a page and saw Ron's freckly face, hunched over and pensive as if he were playing a chess match. He saw another, this one of Hermione bent over her cat Crookshanks. He saw a sketch of Fred and George playing test subjects for their Skiving Snackboxes, several Quidditch action sketches, a funny caricature of Umbridge, several other Gryffindors, Luna Lovegood reading her 'Quibbler' upside down, all vivid and realistic, as if someone had taken a photo. He saw a picture of Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin at Grimmauld Place, a sketch of Pigwidgeon, and several other caracatures of the Inquisitorial Squad. Harry turned a page and his stomach dropped; Ginny had drawn Sirius putting Christmas decorations up at Grimmauld Place. He was grinning; Ginny had really captured how his eyes twinkled and squinted with mirth. He rubbed at his eyes as he turned the page. Harry saw himself staring back at himself. Actually, she had drawn him writing in his diary, just tonight. Harry frowned at his portrait. Was his expression really that...in a word, forlorn? He knew that he hadn't been himself lately, but was it really that noticeable? He noticed that in the picture Ginny did not put his scar; instead she obscured it with his bangs. It had been a whole portrait, not just his face; he was sitting on the couch with his diary spread out in front of him. The details were amazing; she even drew the print on his T-shirt.

Harry turned the page, and an entry came into view; from the date, Harry could see that it was recent. He felt a twinge of guilt, but then he thought of Ginny reading his own diary, so he forced the guilt back and began to read.  
  


Dear Tom,  
  
Life is so boring here at the Burrow. At least at Grimmauld Place last year we used the Extendable Ears to listen in on Order meetings. But now everyone that is "not of age" must stay here in the Burrow while everyone else in our family is out saving the world. Sometimes I hate being the youngest. Although I'm not much younger than Ron, he makes it seem like there's ten years between us. He's so protective; doesn't he understand that there is nothing he can do to hold me back? He even went so far as to suggest that I go out with Harry this year, saying how Harry could protect me and this and that. What a git. I know I had a stupid crush on Harry ages ago, but that doesn't mean I still have one. I don't need a stupid idiot like Harry watching over me like a brother. I have plenty of those. You were right Tom, back in first year. I'm better off without him. Too bad he's best friends with Ron; otherwise he wouldn't have any reason to come to the Burrow every summer. Oh, Tom, I wish you could come visit the Burrow. you always talked about how you wanted to come. At least you appreciate me. At least you understand who I am. You don't treat me like a little sister. When will everyone see that I am not little anymore? I'm a hell of a lot more mature than many people I know. And you know that Tom...you do...  
  
Love,  
Ginny

Another entry followed uninterrupted. It was dated the same as the previous entry.  
  
Dear Tom,  
  
No. You won't make me go through this again. I love my family. I love Ron and Fred and George and Charlie and Bill and even Percy. I even love Harry; he's practically another one of my brothers. I can't keep complaining about being the youngest, Tom. I have to accept it; that's a part of life. No, Tom. You can't make me hate even Harry. You know I don't, that I never could hate him. Tom, I know you're my friend, but I tell you the truth, I have never stopped loving Harry. Perhaps in a different way; it's not my romantic fancy talking here. He's practically part of my family. He needs us. Tom, you can't make me hate him.  
  
Ginny.'

Harry's heart trip-hammered in his chest. Tom...Tom Riddle? Was Ginny writing to Tom Riddle?He felt his stomach drop at the thought. Was she still possessed by Voldemort?__

_I have never stopped loving Harry._

Ginny's words burned in his mind. She loved him. But she loved him only as a brother. Yet she had said that she had loved him, plain as day.__

_Why am I thinking about this? _Harry thought, perplexed_. Why should I care if she loves me or not? _Shaking his head to expel the thought, he read on.

By the time he had finished reading the diary, Harry felt like throwing up.

Instead, he lowered his head into his hands._ Why, Ginny? Why didn't you tell anyone?___


	3. Part 3

Chapter 3

My Dearest Virginia,  
  
Don't trouble yourself. I'm not telling you to hate anyone. I was simply expressing my opinion about this Harry. I think he's a fool, Virginia. A fool for not seeing how wonderful and beautiful you are. Stand up for yourself, Virginia. Don't let your brothers or Harry walk over you. You're strong. You have me on your side, Ginny. You need no one else.  
  
Your friend,  
Tom.

Harry blinked over and over again. He felt like he was going blind, blind with fury. Voldemort...how dare he! Taking over the mind of an innocent girl.  _Again._  Harry clenched his fists, feeling even more hatred for the Dark Lord, if that was at all possible.

Harry stood up quickly and walked over to the sink, running the water underneath his hands and pressing them to his face. He felt a wave of nausea come over him. _This is my fault...my fault..._he thought guiltily.

"H-Harry?"

Harry whirled around and saw Ginny in the kitchen's doorway, clutching his diary to her chest. She was sniffling; her eyes were red and puffy from crying.

"Ginny!" he cried, rushing over to her. He was about to embrace her but she stepped back.  Harry's arms fell to his sides, his cheeks flushing.

"Did you read it?" she said in a small voice, nodding at her diary on the table. Harry felt his cheeks heat up once again in guilt and embarrassment.

"Y-yeah," he stammered. "I'm sorry, Ginny, I couldn't help it...I bet you hate me right now..."

"No...it's okay...I..." Ginny sniffled and looked down at her feet shamefully. "I read yours too."

"O-oh." Harry's voice broke and he coughed. "Um..."

Ginny suddenly burst into tears and threw her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his chest and sobbing. "What do you think of me now?" she hiccupped. 

Harry put his arms around her awkwardly. "Nothing! I don't hate you or anything...it's not your fault..."

"Yes it is," Ginny sobbed. "I believed that Tom was still my friend. I believed him! I wasn't strong. I'm not brave...I'm no Gryffindor..."

"Yes you are," he said fiercely. "You are brave, Ginny. You of all people went down there with me to the Department of Mysteries knowing that Voldemort was down there. You are strong. Sometimes I think you're braver than me."

"What?" Ginny sniffed, looking up at him with tearful eyes. 

"Nobody knew about this Tom Riddle thing. You kept it to yourself. I could never do that."

"That's being a coward," she sobbed.

"It's not like I'm any braver," Harry said contemptuously. "Ginny, why didn't you tell anybody?"

"They'll think I'm a traitor, for siding with V-Voldemort," Ginny whispered shakily. "Mum and Dad will kick me out and all my brothers will hate me..."

"No they won't," Harry interrupted. "They'll only hate Voldemort more. It's him who's the bad guy, Ginny, not you. Never you."

"I thought I could deal with it," she admitted heavily. "But I guess not. I guess I needed somebody like you again." Ginny smiled sadly at Harry. She blinked and pulled away for a moment to hold up his diary.

"So you read all that rubbish?" Harry said with a bitter laugh. He took it from her and flipped through it idly. "It wasn't really him writing back to me, was it?"

"Perhaps it was, Harry," Ginny said softly. "I don't know how that diary works. Maybe it's an illusion. Because I wanted Tom so badly, he came. Because you missed Sirius, he wrote to you."

"An illusion," Harry echoed dully. "Of course. He's gone and not coming back. It was stupid of me."

"No, Harry," Ginny said firmly. "Sirius isn't gone. He'll always be with you."

"Where?" he said savagely. "I don't get it. Dumbledore said the exact same thing about my dad. But I don't see them. I don't."

"Do you want to know?" Ginny whispered. She placed her palm against his heart. "They live here, in you, Harry."

"That's what Dumbledore said," Harry said, his voice full of frustration and rage.

"I don't know about you, but most of what Dumbledore says is true," Ginny pointed out with a small grin.

"He's made mistakes. He's not perfect," he said angrily.

"But he is right about one thing. Sirius and your dad and your mum aren't gone forever. They're here, in you. Maybe the diary helps you connect with that part of you. Maybe that is really Sirius writing to you."

"It sounded like him," Harry said heavily. "I miss him."

"You're not the only one who does, Harry," Ginny said gently. "I miss him too, you know, even though I didn't know him well. Did you see that portrait of him?"

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "It was really good...it looked exactly like him."

"I drew it just a few weeks ago, out of memory. And that's how I'll always remember Sirius, Harry. Smiling and happy." Ginny smiled sadly and opened her arms, welcoming him. Harry fell against her, embracing her tightly, burying his face in her hair.

"It's not fair," he said, his voice muffled. 

"Just think of it this way," Ginny said soothingly. "Sirius and your dad are together again."

They stood there embracing for a moment. Ginny heard him sniffling and knew that he was crying. She didn't say anything for fear of insulting him. She rubbed his back soothingly and listened to the muffled sounds of his sobs against her hair.

When he was through, Harry straightened up and broke away from her, rubbing his eyes. "Thanks," he said roughly. "I really needed that."

Ginny nodded. "I needed it too, Harry." She handed him a handkerchief and he wiped his eyes quickly, averting his gaze from hers. Nevertheless, Ginny saw his red-rimmed green eyes, but they didn't look so forlorn.

"Er...well, we'd better go to bed," Ginny said, breaking the awkward silence. Harry handed her the handkerchief.

"Okay," he said softly, taking his diary and making sure it was his. Ginny took her own and stood there for a moment.

"Good night," Ginny whispered.

"Good night," Harry muttered before doing something that completely threw Ginny off. He bent down and gave her a very awkward and very sweet kiss on the lips.

He straightened up, still avoiding her gaze, but this time, a blush had crept over his cheeks. Without another word Harry left the kitchen and walked back up the stairs to Ron's room.

Ginny smiled to herself and trudged back up to her room, surprised at her relative calmness and serenity.  She flopped on her bed and began tearing out the entries out of her diary one by one, grinning triumphantly as she crumpled each page and tossed it in the wastepaper basket.  Then she picked up her quill, loaded it with ink and began a new entry in her newly cleaned out diary.

_Dear Diary,_

You won't believe what just happened.  I can scarcely believe it now… 

The end.


End file.
